The Faded Paradox
The champagne flute slipped, not from Elias’s hand, but from the air itself, shattering against the marble floor in a spray of crystal and cold liquid. He did not flinch. His eyes were fixed on the chandelier, where the light was wrong, too static, a golden hum that vibrated in the teeth. Around him, the gala roared, a cacophony of silk and laughter, but Elias heard only the low, rhythmic...
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